The sun was just edging over the horizon in the east, Mt. Etna looked down on us from the north; she was spewing a steady stream of smoke this morning which formed the only cloud in the sky. Up ahead, I could see the streams of runners coming together at the registration booth. The air was nearly crisp, hinting at an autumn that is still weeks away. After we registered, we chose a slip of paper from the basket bearing the name of a POW, MIA or 9-11 responder. The run’s theme was a “Rememberance Run,” and we were running in honor of the dead, lost, and imprisoned who bravely put their duty ahead of their safety.

Police dogs and their trainers getting ready for the Sigonella 2011 Rememberance Run 5k.

I pinned the tag to my shirt, read the name Ronnie Gies and wondered who he might have been. My heart caught in my throat and I could feel tears rising in my eyes. The feelings caught me off guard since I had been focused on light stretching, loosening my joints and planning my mental race. The announcer called for a moment of collective silence and a calm descended on me. “I will run hard for those who can no longer run.” This simple thought would return to me throughout the run.

Jill before the run.

We were still meditating in silence when nearby sprinklers sprung out of the ground and started squirting water. This was as good of a start signal as any, and the group took off. The “Chief” selectees lead the way, running in formation. (History of Chiefs here: http://www.history.navy.mil/faqs/faq46-1.htm). The great turn-out of about 500 people clogged the narrow pathway and it was a slow jog for the first half-mile or so as the runners stretched out on the road.

The sunlight was getting stronger, but was not yet hot, and it produced beautiful orange and yellow tones as it struck the tall grass on either side of the path. As Dave and I came up alongside the Chief formation, I listened in shock to the highly offensive stanzas they were calling and repeating, “killing commies” was one glorified activity included in the chant. I shrugged and felt more strongly than ever that I would not fit in with such a group. Though I respect the heck out of the work Chiefs do, I still can’t stomach lines such as those. Perhaps the sailors, soldiers and first-responders being honored had trained to such cadences. It occurred to me that I do not understand much about the training of the very people I was honoring during this run. Perhaps such lines are cues to seek out the enemy, and naming “commies” is just antiquated language from the caller’s training runs. “I will run hard for those who can no longer run.”

Here we are in the soft morning sunlight. At the very front of the pack pictured here, you can see the tops of the flags at the head of the Chief’s formation.

Refocusing on my mantra, I settled into a steady pace, I felt amazing: quick, light steps on the ground; a straight line from my hips to my temples; and a slight pitch forward as I leaned in and let my legs propel me ahead. We rounded the last corner and had just under a half mile to the finish. I turned up my exertion another notch, and then another, my cadence and breath increasing with my acceleration.

As we neared the finish line, I realized there was no finish line. This race wasn’t about setting a PR or even knowing your time, it was about community, camaraderie, and remembering those who couldn’t run with us. The benefit of the run was recognizing the collaborative efforts of all different kinds of people who agree to work toward a common goal. I may not understand those who put their lives in harm’s way to protect me, and they may not understand me, but they go out there to fight for me all the same. In honor of all Ronnie Gies and all of the POWs, MIAs and 9-11 responders, and for those who continue to put yourselves in harm’s way, thank you for your service.

Still working my way through your archives. This post spoke to me. I tried to write about why I run too a few months ago. I didn’t even realize how much I loved it until I injured myself in 2009 and couldn’t do it for awhile. Numbers 1, 4, and 5 are the closest to my own list.

It was hard to narrow it down to five reasons, it is such a great part of my life. I am winding down now from a nice long (5.5 mi) run after work – and snuggling into bed is going to feel great.

Are you back to running? Fortunately I only suffered a phantom fracture (you know, the thin almost-crack-in-your-bone)? I forgot the real name. I call it phantom because it hurts, but then later I think it was all in my head because I can’t replicate the pain. Anyway, that was in 2002 and I’ve been injury free since!